


Blank Heat

by foxpuppet



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Choking, Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 22:04:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11045247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxpuppet/pseuds/foxpuppet
Summary: There was a delay. Bruce’s face was hot, his mind was blank. Then the pressure eased.“I’m so sorry, I-” Clark’s look sharpened with a kind of understanding. Though what he understood Bruce had no idea.Until he realised that Clark’s hips were pressed tightly to his own. Which meant he could feel Bruce’s raging hard-on.





	Blank Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Usual Super disclaimer: disregard cannon; commence porn.
> 
> Apologise as always if this is terrible. I'm posting it before I can convince myself not to. (did i actually write something that doesn't have dirty talking in it??)

Superman’s hands were around his throat. Before the haze could completely close in Bruce managed to fish an innocuous item out of his jacket pocket. What looked to be breath spray. What was actually a mixture of various chemicals designed to break only the most stubborn or magically originated of mind controls.

Bruce kept it on him at all times after the third time enemies had used this tactic to get to either Batman or Superman.

There was a delay. Bruce’s face was hot, his mind was blank. Then the pressure eased. Bruce forced himself to breath evenly. Actually worried about upsetting Clark, god help him.

“Bru-ce?” his name was slow and slurred, Clark’s blank gaze fading as his conscious mind returned. “Oh god, Bruce.”

The combination of adrenaline, lack of oxygen, and Clark groaning his name was having a bad effect on Bruce. Or a good effect. No. Bad, definitely bad.

“Did it happen again?” Clark asked his voice gaining strength as he spoke.

Bruce simply grunted, pushing at Clark’s shoulders. He had yet to step back, to allow Bruce any kind of room to catch his breath.

“I’m so sorry, I-” Clark’s look sharpened with a kind of understanding. Though what he understood Bruce had no idea.

Until he realised that Clark’s hips were pressed tightly to his own. Which meant he could feel Bruce’s raging hard-on.

There was a pause that seemed unending. Bruce’s face, already flushed from lack of oxygen, reddened more. Clark was staring. Silent. The look on his face curiously blank. For such an  expressive man, the careful neutrality was somewhat worrying. None of this was causing Bruce’s erection to subside in the slightest.

Clark, his face so deliberately still, pressed his thumb back to Bruce’s neck. Stroked the delicate skin under his chin lightly. Pressed the slightest amount. A question appeared in Clark’s eyes. Hesitant. Scared. _Wanting_.

Bruce knew this was a bad idea. For so many reasons. He couldn’t allow this to happen. He wouldn’t.

He nodded.

Clark pressed down harder.

Bruce couldn’t breathe.

His face flushed hot again as blood was trapped, his vision blurred. White fuzz grew around the edges of the world. Black butterflies fluttered behind his eyes. Or were they bats? His hips were helplessly rotating, rotating. Grinding his aching dick against the living wall of Clark’s flesh. Fireworks were lighting up his brain, his ears roared. He couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly air. Fresh and harsh, shockingly cold from the air conditioning in his office. His throat was raw and painful, he coughed gratingly.

“Bruce?” Clark said, so very worried even as his dick throbbed against Bruce’s.

“Please,” Bruce rasped.

The pressure closed again. The blood and blur and bats were back. Bruce felt like he was floating. His head was a mass of noise and heat and he couldn’t fucking _breathe_.

He was shaking. Shivering. He was trembling against Clark as his hips thrust mindlessly. He was so fucking close. He couldn’t _fucking breathe_.

Air. A whooping gasp as Bruce tried to beg for Clark not to stop but then there were lips over his own.

Clark was plundering Bruce’s mouth. Pushing hard, mouth wide, tongue hot. He was grinding hard against Bruce, moaning moaning moaning, desperate and needy.

Bruce was pinned, trapped, held in place by Clark’s wanting body. His head was growing dizzy, more slowly than with the press of fingers but with a building intensity. And Clark didn’t let up. Clark didn’t need to breathe; He was going to kiss Bruce literally breathless.

The sound of Bruce’s climax felt huge in his mind but he knew it was little more than a helpless whimper. He hadn’t air for anything more.

His hips jerked desperately as he came inside his suit pants. He felt moisture on his eyelashes as he squeezed his eyes tightly closed. He felt Clark shudder at the knowledge of Bruce’s orgasm. Giving Bruce no time to recover Clark shoved their pants and underwear down, rubbing his hard cock through the mess covering Bruce’s hips and groin.

Bruce twitched and moaned, head throbbing, mouth swollen, dick sensitive. Finally Clark pulled back, heavy breaths breaking over Bruce’s face even hotter than his deep red skin.

“Fuck Bruce. That was. I can’t believe. So fucking-” Clark gasped as he came over Bruce’s naked hips and rumpled shirt.

They twisted and rubbed against each other, sensitive, over-stimulated, unwilling to come down from the high. Both gasping softly they came to as much of a still as they could with their bodies twitching through the aftershocks.

“Holy shit, Bruce,” Clark eventually gasped.

“Yeah,” Bruce panted, his voice completely trashed. He sounded too rough even for Batman. Shit he hoped that wouldn’t last too long.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you,” Clark pause as he realised the inanity of that comment and added, “Too much?”

Bruce grabbed the back of Clark’s head and pulled him into a long, sensuous kiss. He felt Clark’s cock twitch and an answering want in the pit of his stomach that his body couldn’t quite follow through on just yet.

When they broke apart Clark still hadn’t quite got the message. “That was okay?” His voice was so small, his need for Bruce’s reassurance so obvious.

Bruce cleared his cement mixer of a throat and grinned. “It was breathtaking.”


End file.
